Chapter 17
Violet
The minibus was quiet on the early-morning ride from their hotel to unit base.
It was still pitch-black outside, and most of the crew had their sweater hoods pulled up, heads leaning against the window or chins to their chest, trying to snatch a few more moments of sleep.
Tony, the grip, looked a little green around the gills, and the costume junior was hunched over a takeaway cup of coffee from the hotel breakfast. Violet was glad she had skipped the bar the night before.
It was the first day of a week-long shoot in Hampshire.
The crew had travelled down the previous afternoon and the atmosphere on the coach could be summed up as ‘school trip’.
Except, instead of a bunch of teenagers excited to spend a week away together practising their French, skiing badly, and trying to sneak into each other’s rooms once the teachers had gone to bed, this was a bunch of adults giddy about hanging out with their colleagues in a pub after work.
A new WhatsApp group had been set up, where crew were excitedly sharing details of bars, pubs and restaurants they wanted to visit while away.
Violet had heard stories about what happened when crews all went away on location.
They sounded remarkably similar to theatre companies on tour, and generally involved late nights, too much booze, and not-so-secret hook ups.
The minibus trundled through quiet lanes, the occasional flash of headlights from oncoming cars briefly illuminating the sleepy passengers.
She was somewhat less excited than others about crew-on-tour as one of the people on location with them today was Cynthia.
Cynthia had travelled down separately from the crew, the same as the rest of the cast. Violet knew they were in the same hotel, though doubtless Cynthia was in some huge suite, or even a separate wing.
The only silver lining was that she was with them for just one day at this location.
The minibus slowed and turned through a set of huge gates almost hidden in a hedge.
The bus bounced and pitched slowly along a track.
The black sky had faded to a thick grey and Violet could make out shadowy fields and trees on both sides of them, and the outline of a huge building in the distance.
They rattled over a cattle grid, and the snoozing crew members were shaken rudely awake.
A minute later, the lights of unit base appeared around a corner and the bus rolled to a stop in a parking area nearby.
Violet shuffled down the tiny aisle and hurried off the bus as other crew were stretching in their seats and feeling about for their belongings.
Dragging in a lungful of fresh, cool air as she marched towards the trucks, she felt, for the first time in weeks, like she knew what she was doing. She pulled her shoulders back, walked a little taller and reached for the door to the AD truck. It was 06:17am.
Chloe was making coffee and turned to say hi as Violet entered.
Rachael, radio and phone on the desk in front of her, looked up and smiled. ‘Morning, Violet.’
Chloe offered Violet a coffee and she took it gratefully, as Rachael turned to speak to them.
‘We only have access to this part of the estate for today, so we need to get everything. Chloe, Violet, you’re with me at base to start then Violet, you’ll join the team on the floor.’
Violet’s shoulders inched up towards her ears. Being on the floor today meant being around Cynthia, something she was sure they’d both love to avoid. Perhaps she could swap with Chloe and stay at base, or else get sent to some distant point to lock off and stop vehicles coming through.
She opened her mouth then clamped it shut again. She couldn’t afford to appear unhelpful. It was one day.
Rachael’s phone flashed and she grabbed for it. As she listened her expression soured. ‘Ask reception to call up to her room.’ There was a pause. ‘No answer? Then Jim, ask someone to go to her room and knock. She might be famous, but she’d better not make us late.’
Violet’s heart sank. She knew exactly who they were speaking about. She reached for a printed call sheet on the desk and ran her eyes down the cast arrival times. Cynthia was due at 06:45, and it sounded like she wasn’t even in her car yet.
Chloe was turning to go and Violet slipped out behind her before she could hear anything else.
***
By 8.30am there was still no Cynthia and the mood on set was fractious.
Crew who had been up before 6am and in work soon afterwards were getting cranky about the delay.
Hangovers weren’t helping the mood. The hotel they were staying in was an old, extended coaching inn with an expansive bar that had done a roaring business parting crew from their money the night before.
One of the grips slipped off to the unit medic in search of paracetamol, while the lighting trainee was sent to scrounge up a second breakfast for the lighting team.
Violet had been sent to check on Jennifer and Finn, who were in full costume and makeup and waiting in the little easy-up green room close to set.
She was used to the second-hand embarrassment caused by Cynthia’s behaviour, but this was the first time she had had to deal with it in the workplace.
Luckily, Finn was the only person who knew the connection.
Pulling back the awning across the entrance, she stepped inside.
Jennifer, resplendent in a bottle-green gown and ringlets was reading what looked liked a crime thriller, with a bloodied apple and axe on the cover, and Finn was running lines by himself, his mouth making the shapes of the words but no sound.
His expression was meditative, distant. When he saw Violet, he folded his script and slipped it down the side of his chair.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Jennifer glanced up. ‘Hey, Violet,’ she said, before returning to her book.
Violet smiled. ‘Morning, can I get either of you a tea or coffee?’
Finn shook his head. ‘No, thanks. Is there…’ He hesitated. ‘Any sign of Cynthia?’
‘Yes,’ Jennifer chimed in, placing her book in her lap. ‘We’re running pretty late. Do you know what time we can expect to start?’
Violet plastered on a cheery expression and said brightly, ‘Let me find out for you.’
She pressed the radio and called for Rachael, relaying the query from Finn and Jennifer.
Rachael’s voice buzzed down the line. ‘Tell them she’s in makeup and won’t be long.’
‘She’s in makeup,’ Violet parroted. Jennifer sighed and picked up her book.
‘Actually,’ came Rachael’s voice in her ear. ‘She’s in the car and will be here in a few minutes, but don’t tell Finn and Jennifer that or they’ll want to go back to their trailers, and it’ll take ages to get them back again.’
‘Copy that,’ Violet said, cutting off the radio.
‘Rachael says she won’t be long,’ she said to the top of Jennifer’s head. ‘Okay, well.’ Violet started backing towards the exit. ‘I’ll pop back in a bit and see if you need anything.’
‘Hang on,’ Jennifer said suddenly. ‘We do need something, actually.’ She pulled out the sides for the day and held them out to Violet.
‘Could you run lines with us, please? There’s a scene with both of us and Cynthia, and we need someone to read in.
We’ve obviously missed out on any rehearsal time this morning. ’
Violet had automatically taken the proffered pages Jennifer held out to her, but now wished she could drop them. The last thing she wanted to do was read in for her late-as-usual mother. It was too close for comfort.
‘Oh, uh, I…I don’t think…’
Her face flushed, and she glanced up at Finn, meeting his gaze.
‘Jen, I don’t think we need Vi to do that. It’s not exactly her job.’
Jennifer looked affronted at having her idea challenged. ‘Why not? She’s done it before and so has Ethan, for that matter.’
‘It’s…’ Finn cast about for a reason. ‘I imagine with the changes this morning Violet has a lot to do.’
Violet opened her mouth to agree, as Jennifer started to protest.
‘And actually,’ Finn said. ‘I do want a coffee.’
‘You do?’ Violet said. For the first time she was pleased at the prospect of waiting on Finn. She handed the sides back to Jennifer, trying to look sorry about it.
‘What can I get for you?’
But Finn was out of his seat. ‘I’ll come with you. I want to see what snacks they have at craft.’
‘Oh. Sure.’
They fell into lock step as they navigated the trackway laid down from the easy-up back to the tech pad where the craft truck was set up, with barista coffees, hot chocolate, herbal teas, cakes and biscuits.
There were often soups and toasties as afternoon snacks.
A film crew runs on its stomach, so craft operated daily in the gaps between meals to keep everyone watered and well fed.
‘Thanks for that,’ Violet said. ‘I really didn’t want to read in today.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Finn said easily, his hobnail boots clunking on the walkway. ‘Are you okay? I mean, with Cynthia shooting today.’
‘Sure. I’m over the shock now, and she’s unlikely to highlight the family connection. It doesn’t fit nicely with the Cynthia Show.’
Finn insisted they queue with everyone else.
After all, he had nowhere to be imminently.
Violet admired the ease with which he chatted to the crew, and how many people’s names he seemed to know.
Finn spoke to everyone, from the sound trainee to the grips, to the gaffer, as if they were old friends.
He knew real things about people’s lives.
He asked one of the lighting guys if he was happy with his new car, and the standby props woman if her new puppy was house-trained yet.
Finn had a talent with people, she had to admit.
While she was no slouch in building relationships with colleagues, Violet had to concede that she worked at it, while Finn had a natural gift for it.
When they reached the front of the queue, Finn greeted the craft team.
‘Hi, Tim, mate, how was the weekend in the Lakes?’